
Class "Psss/r 

Book T -] t-T 7 

fa[tyri^htF ^ '*^^^ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr 



I 



POEMS 

BY 

ANNE 
H I N C H M A N 



CAMBRIDGE 
PRINTED AT THE 
RIVERSIDE PRESS 
M D C C C C X 






COPYRIGHT, I9IO, BY ANNE HINCHMAN 



*SCU265821 



TO E. S. S. 

" . . . . and gather you 
Who have sought more than is in rain or dew^ 
Or in the sun and moon, or on the earth, 
Or sighs amid the wandering, starry mirth^ 
Or comes in laughter from the sea's sad lips,''' 
William Butler Yeats. 



CONTENTS 



FACE 
I. THE SEDGE ON THE WIND-BEATEN SHORE .... I 

n. OUR MINDS, THAT LONG TO REACH THE UNSPHER'd 

HEIGHT 3 

m. LOVE, THAT ON EARTH HOLDETH SUPERNAL POWER . 4 

IV. AFTER PALE DEATH HATH BIDDEN LIFE DEPART . . $ 

V. GREAT POET, WHO IN THREEFOLD RIME HAST WROUGHT 6 

VI. O THOU, TO WHOM MY SOUL WITH BEATING HEART . 7 

Vn. WHEN TIR'D MEN SUMMER TREADETH DOWN WITH 

MIGHT 8 

Vra. WHEN THE BRIGHT GLARE OF THE HIGH DAY IS PAST Q 

IX. WHEN FROM THE GLORY OF THE LONELY FIELDS . . lO 

X. AS THE FULL CURTAINS OF THE WELKIN'S ARCH . .II 

XI. O GOD, SINCE THIS THY EARTH DOTH SHOW SO FAIR . 12 

Xn. O GOD, BECAUSE THOU DIDST NOT LOCK THE DOOR . 13 

Xm. SWEETSAPPHOjTH AT H AST GATHER'd PURPLE FLOWERS I4 

XIV. WHEN APRIL PIPES ON EVERY HILL 1 5 

XV. IF THOU WOULDST SEE, O MAN, THE GLORY SHED . .16 



vi CONTENTS 

XVI. BELOVED, WHEN I REACH MY HANDS 1 7 

XVII. I LEAN AND LOOK INTO THE POOL l8 

XVIII. THE GREY SKY HOLDS ME WITH A DREAM-DESIRE . IQ 

XIX. MISTS, THAT REST ON THE WATER 20 

XX. THE MOON CALLS, AND THE CLOUD 21 

XXL WE COME FROM THE SEA ! 22 

XXn. I AM THE WIND FROM THE SOUTH 23 

XXIII. BEYOND THE BLUE, MOUNTAINOUS OUTLINE . . 2$ 

XXrV. WHEN BRIGHT-FAC'd DAY WALKS THROUGH THE 

WESTERN GATES 26 

XXV. O DEATH, WHO HAND IN HAND WITH LOVE . . .27 

XXVI. IN LAST year's PALACE, BUILT OF DREAM AND 

CLOUD 28 

XXVn. O LUSTY DEATH, WHY HAVE MEN CALL'd THEE PALE 29 

XXVm. SINCE I FEEL ALL YOUR GRIEF 30 

XXIX. THE LITTLE LOVE THAT GLEAMS BETWEEN US . . 31 

XXX. BELOVED, IF LOVE HAD NOT BOUND MY EYES . .32 

XXXI. LIKE A LEAF BLOWN IN AT THY WINDOW ... 33 

XXXn. PLAYING WITH COLOR! 34 

I. VICTOR OVER CLOUDY NIGHT 34 

n. IN THE DELICATE DAWN 35 



CONTENTS vii 

in. FRAIL AS THE DREAMS THAT ARE STRAYING 36 

IV. fenc'd in with white a garden grows . 37 

V. THE VOICES OF NIGHT 37 

VI. WHEN TEARFUL APRIL'S SMILES APPEAR . .38 

VII. WHEN DAZZLING PASSION COMETH IN HIS 

HOUR 39 

XXXm. I HAVE ASK'd much from THE HIGH GODS . . 40 

XXXIV. CLEARER THAN LIFE BECAUSE DEATH'S LARGE 

OUTLINE 41 

XXXV. "now shame come to THIS HEART OF MINE . 42 

XXXVI. THE YEAR HAS CAST HIS CLOAK ASIDE .... 47 

XXXVII. DAILY WENT THE LOVELY DAUGHTER .... 48 

XXXVin. HOW EMPTY HERE IS EVERY HOPE WE KNOW . 49 

XXXIX. WHERESOE'ER my LADY TURNS HER LOVELY 

EYES 50 

XL. WITH WEARYING RAIN AND WITH WHAT HEAVY 

WIND 51 



THE CHILDREN OF LIR 

Because of her jealousy, Aoife changed her hus- 
band's children into four white swans. And the 
enchantment was to last thrice three hundred years, 
and their sufferings were to be very great. But ap- 
palled at what she had done, and unable to break 
the enchantment, Aoife permitted them to keep their 
loved speech of the Gael. And their singing was so 
beautiful that it overcame everyone, and whoso had 
sorrows and heard it, his sorrows were as naught. 

The sedge on the wind-beaten shore 
Gives back at the rush of the storm, 
The foam from the sea, toss'd before, 
Takes flight in tumultuous form. 
Afar from the sea-bound ledges. 
Scant shelter'd from anger of wind. 
Comes a promise of faery pledges, 
A respite from all that is drear. 
The boon that Queen Aoife could find ; 
The song of the children of Lir. 

The rain and the hail like to fire. 
Rage and leave ice where they burn ; 
Cloud and wind with their bitter desire 
Rush by and rushing return. 
I 



THE CHILDREN OF LIR 

Fionnuala, thy pitiful brothers — 

Fiachra and Aodh and Conn — 

Thou hast sought, thou hast found them, the others ; 

Thy wings shield their bodies from fear, 

And together ye sing ; sing on 

Your song, O children of Lir. 

There be many that walk on Time's marge, 
And their lives are weary and long. 
And heavy some hearts are and large. 
But few are the hearts that make song. 
Fionnuala, more white than thy brothers, 
Fiachra and Conn, — when she sings — 
Aodh, with eyes more aflame than the others. 
Draw close that our faint hearts may hear 
The beat of your turbulent wings. 
The song of the children of Lir. 

White swans on the waste of the Maoil, 
That gladden these desolate parts. 
Sing and make cease the sharp toil 
That the sorrowful find in their hearts. 
In the stream of your tremulous singing 
Let bathe the hurt of the world ; 
Enchanted the murmurous ringing 
That deep is, and silver, and clear. 
And soft as petals, dew-pearl'd. 
The song of the children of Lir. 



II 



Our minds, that long to reach the unspher'd height 

Where Dream and Thought bend ever ready 
wings ; 

Where that great host of unsubstantial things 
Sustains the marvel of unmeasur'd might ; 
Will wonder in the star-song of the night, 

Straining beyond man's dim imaginings ; 

Crying to sky, and sea, and storm that brings 
A madness of desire, for deeper sight : 

Yet musing still how Earth doth give us stay, 
Holding us back from farther flight ; while we 

Gaze mazedly at one small broken ray 
Whose narrow light unveils no mystery; 

And we must weave of every little day 
The web we tear to find eternity. 



Ill 



Love, that on earth holdeth supernal power ; 
Love, whose might sways Life's tumult and Life's 

peace j 
Love, whose great strength is as a builded tower ; 
Love, that from bondage granteth no release ; 
Ariseth, like the luminous star of even, 
Appearing pale, yet wonderfully bright ; 
Ariseth, like the sun that gilds the heaven, 
Filling the soul with fire and roseate light ; 
And to man's lips holds forth a gleaming cup ; 
Yet he that drinks doth tremble, for he knows 
That Fear and Death have pour'd their fateful drop 
Where Joy and Beauty's gold wine brightly glows. 
Love's breath is sweet, but from the aching heart 
Ariseth a long sigh to ease its smart. 



IV 



After pale Death hath bidden Hfe depart, 
And laid his hand upon my wondering eyes, 
Hath still'd the fiery beating of my heart, 
And put to flight wing'd flocks of vague surmise j 
When he hath led my feet to paths untrod, 
And twin'd pale asphodel within my hair ; 
When he hath given in silence the dread nod 
That rids me of the weight of earthly care ; 
When all this world of passing day and night 
Gives way to one enduring, starless time ; 
And place is lost, nor is there any sight 
Of sky or light, nor warmth of any clime : 
Will any hope, or joy, or love be there. 
Or self, itself, find being anywhere ? 



FRANCESCA DA RIMINI 

*' Amor condusse noi ad una morte." 

Great poet, who in threefold rime hast wrought 
The chant of the three worlds beyond our earth, 
When thy compassionate " Alas ! " hath birth 

At the perse blast with Love's wan wreakage 
fraught ; 

I, at thy words, with pity too am caught, 

That these bright lovers, for their pleasures' 

worth, 
Should come thereby to death and utter dearth 

Where neither hope nor comfort may be sought. 

Yet as this lady's love, by man's deceit. 
Was turn'd to sorrow and to heavy wrong, 
With death's swift stroke and the sharp pain 
thereof ; 
My wing'd dream following the spirits fleet, 
Museth on this, as those two join the throng : 
That in love's torment she hath still her love. 



VI 



O Thou, to whom my soul with beating heart 
Hath knelt in praise, since my first dream of thee, 
Nor wisheth evermore to be made free 

Nor ever from thy vassalage would part : 

Thou, Beauty, who a star, who our sun art ! 
Grant of thy glory light to us that we, 
Like the awakening earth, may joyously 

Turn to thy beams that life's pale mists dispart. 

Thee have we guess'd at as we dimly could, 
As mind and heart and high ambition can — 
Nay, we have strain'd and sought thee, fear- 
fully; 
Have felt and wonderfully understood 

What never has been seen unveil'd by man. 
Nor ever heard, the unmeasur'd harmony. 



VII 

When tir'd men Summer treadeth down with might, 
Nor gives relief to young, nor sick, nor old, 
But multiplies their pain an hundredfold, 

Making their burdens great that now were light ; 

When high noon beateth in the streets as white 
As any sun that tropic countries hold ; 
When morn doth weary with her weight of gold, 

And day calls day across the shade of night ; 

Amid all noise that in the heat seems near, 
Amid all cries that seem a city's sigh, 

More loud than drums, and constant as the 
breath 
That beareth sighs ; in this great city here, 
My heart cries out for tree, and field, and sky, 
And my soul wants one flower that blossometh. 



VIII 

When the bright glare of the high day is past, 

And kindly evening soothes the painful world ; 

When every flower with blessed dew is pearl'd 
And gentle bird-songs whisper peace at last ; 
Then have I gaz'd upon the ocean vast 

That ceaseless heaves, with his proud waves 
upcurl'd, 

When even the winds their energies have furl'd 
And rest, like sails dropp'd from the straining mast. 

And in my heart a voice, strong as the tide. 
Speaks of like hearts that ceaselessly do beat 
On the steep shores of rough mortality ; 
While the pale stars in their far spheres abide 
And bid the sea with his wild voice repeat 
The constant tale of deepest mystery. 



IX 



When from the glory of the lonely fields 

And the great solitudes of mountain heights, 

Where every promontory grandeur yields 

And moon and stars lend us their splendid lights ; 

Where branched trees are peace, and flowers are 

smiles, 
Where the great sun soothes with a kindly kiss 
The sharp hurt of the wind ; when in short whiles 
I leave, alas, all this dear summer's bliss, 
Then must I, in the turmoil and the roar 
Of life's full tide, breast the great city's surge ; 
Longing for all that I had lately more, 
The peace and warmth fresh memory doth urge : 
Yet haply there some peace and joy I '11 find 
Crown'd and enthron'd in nobleness of mind. 



10 



X 



As the full curtains of the welkin's arch 
Hang low and hide from sight the greater sphere, 
And all the lesser lights whose nightly march 
Doth o'er our heads a dazzling vision appear ; 
So some dark veil droops now and winds me round, 
Clouding my eyes with shadows' dreamy folds, 
My hands with the same spirit-stuff seem bound 
And cannot tear the band that loosely holds. 
Oh, now ambition's eager, nerved start 
Doth pause, and time doth swallow my new thought ; 
My strength gives way, and with a listless heart 
I stand where life's desires and fears are naught. 
Till from without my cloud may come a gleam 
And lift my soul beyond this shadowy dream. 



II 



XI 



O God, since this Thy earth doth show so fair, 
Since mine eyes strain to see, by day and night, 
The stars and lustrous planets glowing bright ; 

And the proud clouds that earth's refreshment 
bear; 

Since the wide sea eternally lies there 

Where I may watch his splendor and his might ; 
Since earth prepareth for my eager sight 

The gorgeous raiment she doth gaily wear : 

Since here, O God, all things do seem so glad, 
Take from my heart this darkness that doth bind 
My joy in fetters, hung in heavy wise ; 
That, as I now stand silent, being sad, 

My heart, set free, may in this fair world find 
The pleasures that are given to mine eyes. 



12 



XII 

O God, because Thou didst not lock the door, 
But only drew it close before mine eyes, 
And my soul, burning after Thee, look'd in. 
Because I saw a flaming seraph's wing. 
Thou hast shut me in a cloud of whirling stars 
That I may see neither heaven nor earth between 
And as the flames grow pale and bright again 
My brain is dizzy with their tossing lights. 
O God, I faint, and cannot stand, nor dare 
To fall against the starry sparks that burn 
My earthly body. Let my feet find hold 
Upon the path spread out before them here ; 
Let them feel all the comfort of the dew 
And wing my spirit with unquenchable flame. 



13 



XIII 

Sweet Sappho, that hast gather'd purple flowers, 
And with thy fingers twin'd their fragrant bloom 
Into a wreath none else may wear but thee, 
Wear yet thy crown, though time has broken it ; 
Wear yet thy crown, though some white flowers 

have fall'n 
Thy fever'd fingers wound in with the red ; 
Oblivion now, with his insatiable wave, 
Has wash'd them far from thy feet where they fell. 
Still through the ages' night, through that deep 

gloom, 
The crown of our bright heavens is ever lov'd : 
Thy glowing wreath eternally doth sway 
The wondrous magic of some far pale star ; 
Till scatter'd lights, fill'd out by yearning eyes. 
Make thy few petals seem a perfect crown. 



14 



XIV 

APRIL 

When April pipes on every hill 

The lays that cleave the heart of Spring, 
Making the woods and meadows ring 

With music Winter's frown did still, 

Fair blossoms nod o'er every rill 
And cast their brown leaves' covering, 

When April pipes on every hill. 

And now each heart doth feel the thrill 
The morning's lovely light doth bring : 

At the door of Dreams the sweet birds' trill 
Calls all to leave their slumbering ; 
Till our feet move, and our lips sing 
The lays that cleave the heart of Spring, 

When April pipes on every hill. 



IS 



¥ 



XV 

THE POET 

If thou wouldst see, O man, the glory shed 

On this our earth, how fair its beauties be, 
Let thy dim sight by mine eyes' light be led. 
If thou wouldst see ! 

Look through mine eyes at flower, and field, and 
tree, 
See where the pallid river from its bed 

Gleams silver through the willows dazzlingly ; 

And if Life's mysteries thou wouldst have read, 

Across Time's loom, where darkly worketh he, 
Watch my thin fingers weave the trembling thread, 
If thou wouldst see. 



i6 



XVI 

AMOR ERRANS 

Beloved, when I reach my hands 
Across the cloudy, star-blown night, 
I hear across the shifting sands 
The murmuring sea, and my delight 
Becomes a fear ; the empty halls 
That God built of the aeon's waste 
Give back the sound of my footfalls. 
My heart, lest now I die, oh haste, 
Haste, heart, unto the higher hill 
That nearer is the myriad stars, 
And on the mountains, till time kill, 
Wander among the cloudy bars ; 
Or till love come, and coming call 
From out the wilderness of space : 
Gather no more thy briars tall, 
For thou art gather' d in their place. 



17 



XVII 

I LEAN and look into the pool 

Where the cool shadowy corners hide, 

Where dance the waves, like the king's fool, 
Above the cruel unanswering tide. 

Old beauty lingering for all time, 

Flush'd with her prime, wild strength imparts, 
Or pal'd with wonder marks the chime 

Whose whirling rime wins dream-lost hearts. 

My heart will wander through the world, 
And muse the curl'd leaves of a flower, 

The myriad stars, white dawn bepearl'd, 
The leaflets whirl'd before a shower. 

Till silence grow within the wood, 
Till silence brood o'er field and sky, 

Till silence like a newborn mood 
Hush flood of heart and memory. 



i8 



XVIII 

The grey sky holds me with a dream-desire ; 
The sea-mists draw me ; and against them set, 
The sun's bow sings to my wild heart 
A thought. 

The sweet air holdeth in her gentle hands 
My wearied brow, and whispers in my ear ; 
Above me in the gull's cry comes once more 
The thought. 

The pine-trees, moaning, join their mournful voice 
With the wind's song, that sings again to me ; 
And ever ocean's burden thundereth 
That thought. 

The harp-strings hold it for a harper's hands ; 
My soul doth hear and hearing longs to sing. 
But from the strings my fingers fall, nor draw 
My thought. 



19 



XIX 

LUNA PLENA 

Mists, that rest on the water, 
White with the dimmest of light, 

That sway as the still lake trembles 
And move in the motionless night ; 

Wreathe their wings with a rhythm 

That follows the silent air, 
A music that breathes no whisper ; 

Till the moon shows her majesty there. 

Where are the mists that hover'd 
With the stir of a soundless tune ? 

As the light of the stars fades to moonlight 
Has their beauty gone into the moon. 



20 



XX 



NIGHT 



The moon calls, and the cloud, 

And a voice from the windy hill ; 

The night cries aloud. 

Though the rivers of time are still ; 

A light as of Heaven doth fill 

The calm that the hillsides wear; 

On the deeps peace sleeps, 

While the mountain keeps 

High guard from the troops of care, 

Raising his head up till 

The stars are caught in his hair. 



21 



XXI 

We come from the sea ! 

Soft, thin threads of cloud are we : 

Gather, gather. 
Now is our airy dance begun, 
See how we circle and pass the sun, 

Come, gather. 
Down below on the ground we spy 
Things thrown up when the tide was high, 
Skeleton fishes lying there, 
Wash'd, and burnt, and eaten bare. 
Shap'd like us are the fishes' bones, — 
White on ocean's pebbly stones, — 
But dry, they are dry. 
Are you thirsty, you on the sunny sands ? 
Turn not again to the bitter sea ; 
Take of the drops that fall from our hands. 
White as the afternoon moon were we. 
We are become a heavy black 
Gather'd up from the scatter'd rack. 
What, do you tremble, and shake, and shrink ! 
Ask'd you not now for water to drink > 
Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! 



22 



XXII 

A SONG OF SEASONS 

THE WIND OF SPRING 

I AM the wind from the South : 

From the glowing South I follow'd the Spring, 
Naked and swift I follow'd her wing, 
I follow'd the cry of her mouth. 

With her bright arms my body she clips, 
I am become but the breath of her lips, 
The violets her smile doth bring. 

THE SUMMER WIND 

I am the Summer's wind : 

All through the languid hours that be 
A leafy bower for her and me, 
My will doth she sweetly bind ; 

But with the flow of the morning tide 
I leave her soft and burning side 
For the spray and the cool of the sea. 



23 



A SONG OF SEASONS 

THE AUTUMN WIND 

Autumn hath call'd to me ; 

In the first bright night her lover she calls, 
And I fly, I fly, and the first leaf falls 
From a toss'd and broken tree. 

Yea, Autumn, thou calledst, and I am here ; 
Hark to my answer that ringeth clear 
As I cry through the night's long halls. 

winter's wind 

I have set my icy breath 

To blow in the trumpet that winter doth hold ; 
The sun hath hidden his cheering gold 
At the blast that calls for death. 

I have set my foot on the stiffen'd ground ; 
Death answers my call with a rattling sound ; 
He hath answer'd my calls of old. 



24 



XXIII 

Beyond the blue, mountainous outline 

That closes the round of to-day 
I hear the shadowy nation 

At their song and their dance and their play. 

O People, whose age is unnumber'd, 
Great men who have wander'd afar, 

And women whose wildering beauty 
Made ruin and havoc and war ; 

Ye dwellers in hidden valleys. 

Untroubled by laws and by creeds, 
Ye are one with the floods and the whirlwinds, 

Ye suffer no more with earth's needs. 

Though your hearts will wander forever, 
Ye ride winds that are swift as the heart ; 

Though ye thirst, ye have streams that are mighty, 
Nor desire nor its fill dwell apart. 

Ye turbulent, passionate People, 

To whom hills and the hollows belong. 

Set a sign on your pathways and dwellings 
Lest I follow the quieter throng. 

25 



XXIV 

When bright-fac'd day walks through the western 
gates 
Leaving the soul alone with gloomy night, 
And all the balm that night's sweet sister owes 
Dispelled is, as if by bright-fac'd day ; 

Then thoughts will come, that eager day wards 
off, 
To trouble quiet ; and the oppressed heart 
Aghast is at memorial distress 
Of signal toils perpetuate in thought. 

O happy you ! who think that off, somewhere 
Beyond the embroider'd veil of extreme night, 
There lies a compensation of the cost. 
Pity such bitter state, you happy ones. 

Should you arise and join that blessed throng. 
That ye beheld with your still mortal eyes. 
While unbelief yet fetters my dead soul, 
Pray for me then, when your souls shall arise. 



26 



XXV 

A ROUNDEL 

O Death, who hand in hand with Love 

And Fate, through life's ways wandereth, 
Shadowing with thy dark wings the light thereof, 
O Death, 

Thou, of whose form man vaguely dreameth, 
Wreath'd with white asphodel above, 
Yet whose veil'd face a shadow seemeth ; 

When we meet and thou sayest : Enough ! 

Shall I find gentle thy strange breath ? 
Tell me, is thy touch sweet or rough, 
O Death ? 



27 



XXVI 

In last year's palace, built of dream and cloud, 
I met a figure with bow'd head, and eyes 
That cast no light before them, and his sighs 

Spoke loud and strange, and bid no man be proud : 

" I am that phantom all ye men call death ; 
And him who dreams I trip up by the heel 
And tell him that his dreams are nowise real. — 

And cloud and dream and pleasure vanisheth. 

"And him who lives I weave about with dreams 
Until his sorrow grow a phantom soul 
And he become a dreamer and is whole 

Of cutting sorrow, drown'd in reveries' streams." 



Beyond the portal where my hand now knocks 
What great, soul-startling, distant phantom 

looms ? 
I follow unknown halls to hidden rooms 

Behind the door that this new day unlocks. 



28 



XXVII 

O LUSTY Death, why have men call'd thee pale, 
Spoke thee a shade, a gatherer of the fallen ? 
Thou greedy Death ! Had thy food only been 
The feeble and the old, then might thy bones 
Rattle against thy starv'd unsupple skin, 
And thy swift arm hang unnerv'd at thy side. 
But thou dost feed on babies and on maids 
Plump with the ruddy freshness of their youth ; 
Strong men thou fellest to pack thy gaping maw ; 
The richest harvest crams thy hungry mouth ; 
Thy gloomy coat is crimson-lin'd, O Death, 
And I have seen it blow back in the wind 
Of life that roar'd to thee : " Back, back, 
Thou claimest thine too early. I yet am strong." — 
Thy equal for an hour ! but could not stay 
Thy ravenous greed or that thy crushing arm. 
Thou lusty, stout, unconquerable Death ! 



29 



XXVIII 

Since I feel all your grief 
Can I no comfort give ? 

My heart breaks at a word 
For fear that I may grieve. 

The silence of my love — 
Since I feel all your grief — 

Leans over you to tell 
How I know, past belief. 

O that my heart were cool ! 

That is a fire instead ; 
For since I feel your grief 

My hand shakes on your head. 

Yet though my hands are hot 

And restless as a leaf, 
More comfort I can bring 

Because I know your grief. 



30 



XXIX 

The little love that gleams between us 
Touch not. Beware ! your hand above 
Its tiny flame may quickly quench it : 
This night may kill our little love. 

I see it yet, a feeble glimmer; 
My heart is cold, nor doth it move 
At that wan flame ; the night of anger 
Swoops down to kill our little love. 

Why would you touch it with such longing, 
Scatter the fuel, the life thereof ? 
The world is cold and dark around us. 
This night has kill'd our little love. 



31 



XXX 

SONG 

Beloved, if Love had not bound my eyes 
With this new blindness, if I still could see 

As see those loveless ones that think them wise, 
What should I say of thee ? 

Should I then think thy face were not so fair 
As the bright sweetness of the evening sky ? 

Should I then see thy eyes less brilliant were 
Than stars that gleam on high ? 

Nay, Love, my Love, though these things should 
be so, 

The eye sees not so truly as the heart ; 
I know thee fair ! But thy love's gentle glow 

Breathes better what thou art. 



32 



XXXI 

SONG 

Like a leaf blown in at thy window, 
Fate hath hurl'd me before thine eyes ; 
Fate's wind hath been kind to me ; 
Fair one, say that for thee 
Fate hath bidden a sweet star arise ; 
That Fate hath been kind to thee also. 

The leaf frost had wither'd, my dearest, 
While life hath but touch'd my heart, 
Hath set in my heart a flame. 
Thou knowest well ere I came 
Sweet peace was thy blest life's part ; 
Tell me now, O Belov'd, how thou farest ? 



33 



XXXII 

SONGS OF COLOR 

Playing with color ! 

How else had I found 
All this new boldness ? 

Hark to the sound, 

The cry of gay orange ; 

Come into my hand. 
See how I hold it, 

Unflinchingly stand. 

Oh, could I touch it, 

That glowing red ! 
Then I might glory 

When aeons are dead. 

Yet with thy wonder, 
O thou gentle blue ! 

Soothe my burnt spirit 
With thy tender hue. 

I 

GOLD 

Victor over cloudy night, 
Phoebus in thy amber car, 
Bring us now thy goodly light, 
Drive away each pale-fac'd star. 
34 



SONGS OF COLOR 

Dart thy beams on every side, 
Kindle glade and field of grain, 
Set aglow great rivers wide. 
Gild the clouds, thy princely train. 

Now thy worship, given of old, 
Is corrupt, and hollow need 
Hides thy power in coin of gold ; 
Cramp'd thy power by crooked greed. 

Come with blaze of power and, splendid, 
Smite thy harp and, smiting, sing 
How thou hast the world befriended, 
Thou of light and color king ! 

Victor over cloudy night, 
Phoebus in thy amber car, 
Bring us now thy goodly light, 
Drive away each pale-fac'd star. 

II 

WHITE 

In the delicate dawn 
When the wind, astir. 
Through the drift of mist 
The sea has kiss'd, 
And the fluttering whirr 
Out of nests is drawn ; 
35 



SONGS OF COLOR 

The petals frail 

Of the wind-flower, 

The anemone, 

In their purity 

Like a snowy shower 

Are toss'd by the gale. 

And the gods withdrawn 
In the fragrant grove, 
With limbs that are bright 
In the fading night 
As the wings of a dove, 
Are whiter than dawn. 

Ill 

AZURE 

Frail as the dreams that are straying 
In the shadowy borders of sleep, 
Pale as the mists that are playing 
In the dawn on the face of the deep ; 
Thou spreadest thy veil over heaven 
Translucent and azure ; at even 
Lo ! the hills in thy magical keep. 

Then, on the shadowy margent 
With the sea and the heavens to view, 
There, in a glimmer of argent 
My soul is awaken'd anew. 
36 



SONGS OF COLOR 

Where thy wonderful radiance bendeth 
Ecstatic, alone, it ascendeth 
Enwrapp'd in thy magical hue. 

IV 

SAPPHIRE 

Fenc'd in with white a garden grows 
Fair flowers of every kind one knows j 
Bright as the sun across our view 
A bird of brilliant sapphire hue 
With flash of sudden color goes. 
The loveliest garden ! How its rows 
Of bud on bud it gaily throws, 
All rivals to the larkspur's blue, 

Fenc'd in with white. 
O air flower-sweet within the close, 
Still sweet and sweeter thy breath blows 
With breeze as fresh as morning dew. 
Lo ! where beyond in color, too, 
The sea a summer garden shows 

Fenc'd in with white. 

V 

VIOLET 

The voices of night 
From the pearly west 
Are a circling flight. 
37 



SONGS OF COLOR 

Fluttering and bright 

The voices of night ! 

They are dreams in my breast, 

The voices of night 

From the pearly west. 

VI 

GREEN 

When tearful April's smiles appear 
And liquid birds are carolling, 
Thy feet touch meadows far and near, 
And youth grows fair with marvelling. 

Thou frolic and inconstant green ! 
That, with new humor travelling, 
Pauseth awhile on broider'd screen 
And languid maid's apparelling ; 

Soon thou art woven in a shade 
Of summer boughs, where, murmuring, 
Amid lush fans and shelter laid, 
A snake-like stream is wandering. 

There to escape the fiery sun 
Tumultuous hearts find comforting ; 
Quiet and shadow there are one 
In thy deep verdure slumbering. 



38 



SONGS OF COLOR 



VII 



SCARLET 
CRIMSON 

When dazzling passion cometh in his hour, 
With naked sword of terror, unafraid, 
He strikes the trampler of the wine of life ; 
And he who treadeth out the grape sinks down. 
Across the walled city falls his scream, 
His heart is stain'd as all his raiment is. 

O heart split through and burnt as with a flame, 
Undaunted, take the fire between thy hands 
And fashion from thy torment diadems : 
That thou, establish'd, may be cloth'd with strength, 
Adorn'd with purple, crown'd with amethyst 
And ruby, drink what thou hast gather'd and re- 
joice. 



39 



XXXIII 

I HAVE ask'd much from the high Gods : 
That they descend and show my sight 
Their goodly splendor and their might ; 

This ask'd I from the lofty Gods. 

Again I ask'd from the high Gods 
That they arise and teach my tongue 
The mighty numbers they have sung. 

This ask'd I from the potent Gods. 

And from immortal vaults I heard 
The laughter of a giant power 
As sounds the sea in stormy hour, — 

Such noise from the great vaults I heard. 

To hark or break an earnest prayer, 
O ye fair Gods, is yours to say ; 
A suppliant cries to you alway 

To harken to an earnest prayer. 



40 



XXXIV 

IN MEMORIAM 

Clearer than life because Death's large outline 
Draws firmly where each day with trembling grasp 
Shakes as a hand strain'd past its ready best, 
Thou standest now, in form more clear than life. 

On that last day, before the curtain fell 
That hides thy body from our longing sight, 
Pillow'd in light and cloth'd around with flowers 
And hallow'd light, thou layest that last day. 

Thy hands, that ever in their shapeliness 
Were white as lilies, rosier were in death 
Than the pale lilies in their lifeless hold ; 
Lovely thy yellow hair, thy face; thy hands. 

O maid, that in thy womanhood had grown 
Beyond the fret and frenzy of young years, 
Yet fresh to smooth away the poor world's hurt, 
Thou standest now, heroic grown, white maid. 



41 



XXXV 

SIR ANASTASIUS 

** Now shame come to this heart of mine 

For loving true and long ; 
No peace nor pleasure have I found, 

But woe and weary wrong. 

" Yet, oh, my lady's eyes are bright ! 

Nay, but her tongue 's a sword ; 
'T is fifty deaths a day I die. 

Slain by her cruel word. 

" One death 's enough a man to die, 

My bright brand I will pull 
And thrust it deep into my heart 

Till it drink my life's blood full." 

He has taken his sword from out its sheath 

And turn'd it in his hand, 
Now nay, for bitter love is sweet. 

Has put by his shining brand. 

It was dusky eve before starlight, 

The sun had sunk full low ; 
He has wander'd far in the sombre wood, 

Still brooding on his woe. 

42 



SIR ANASTASIUS 

He has wander'd far in the dusky shade, 
" Would my love were at my side, 

No fair word has she given to me. 
Now would that I had died." 

The pale, pale sky bent overhead 

As he stepp'd from the wood, 
And white against the dark, dark copse 

A wonder where he stood : 

A lady, white as the shining moon, 

No dress nor shoe had she, 
Close follow'd by a mounted knight 

Whom she did ever flee ; 
And ever as she fled before 

As swiftly on came he ; 

And ever in her panting flight 

Two hounds leapt there along. 
They have torn the flesh of her white, white side 

And bath'd each eager tongue. 

The knight has come to the lady's side. 

She has fallen on her knee. 
Now : '' Mercy, mercy, for your past love 

Take not my heart from me." 

The knight has lifted his heavy sword, 

The hounds fret at her side ; 
Anastasius starts from his bitter trance 

And : " Hold, Sir Knight ! " he has cried. 
43 



SIR ANASTASIUS 

" It were great wrong to slay a man 

Naked and fallen as she ; 
Now shame, Sir Knight, to chase as prey 

A delicate, fair lady ! " 

He has taken a stick of the sturdy oak 

And to part them he is fain. 
" Let be, let be, and thou shalt see 

Thy mercy is in vain. 

" Hear first my tale that I will tell, 
A tale that fiends would move : 

This lady when we liv'd on earth 
Did scorn my too great love. 

" My all I spent to give to her 

What man can think to give. 
But such her cruelty to me 

Man could not bear and live ; 
With this same sword I took my life, 

And Heaven let her not live. 

*' Let be, let be, and thou shalt see 
What Heaven has order'd so : 

My love is turn'd to bitter hate, 
Ah me, a greater woe ! 

And she that scorn'd my love before 
Would have it now I trow." 



44 



SIR ANASTASIUS 

The knight sweeps down his darksome sword, 
To the hounds he throws her heart. 

" Each Friday here this must be done 
As slow day doth depart ; 

As many years this must be done 
As months she wore my heart." 

Afar she flies through the fallen gloom, 

The knight pursues again. 
Anastasius museth : " For my lady 

To see this I were fain. 

" For my lady bright to have seen this night 

This vision I were fain. 
A Friday here must she be brought 

When day is at the wane." 



With mirth and song and talk among, 

To supper there is set 
A company, with gaiety 

There in the wild wood met. 

The feast is stopp'd on the table-board, 
The harper drops his hand, 

Each lightsome maid is now afraid, 
Each lover is unmann'd. 

A wondrous sight ! a lady bright, 
Slain by a phantom lord j 



45 



SIR ANASTASIUS 

She let him seek a desperate death, 
She dies by the same sword. 

One lady, of all that company, 

Is white as the vision there, 
In the crimson gown that she has on. 

Is her pale face wondrous fair. 

She has risen up from the table-board, 

And never a word said she. 
But the priest has join'd two silent hands ; 
Anastasius turns to her where she stands, 

And a kiss of her lips has he. 



46 



XXXVI 

Translated from Charles D'Orleans. 

The year has cast his cloak aside 
His cloak of wind and cold and rain ; 
A shining suit of sun has ta'en 
And cloth'd himself in broider'd pride. 

And bird and beast on every side 
Calls in his jargon or sweet strain, 
"The year has cast his cloak aside." 

Fountain and stream and river wide 
Bedeck themselves with silver chain, 
For lovely raiment each is fain : 
The world is dress'd in garments pied, 
The year has cast his cloak aside. 



47 



XXXVII 

THE ASRA 
Translated from Heine. 

Daily went the lovely daughter 
Of the Sultan in the evening 
Up and down unto the fountain, 
To the water white and rippling. 

There, there stood a young slave daily, 
In the evening at the fountain, 
By the water white and rippling, 
Daily he grew pale and paler. 

Till one evening stepp'd the Princess 
Unto him with hurried question : 
" What thy name ? I wish to know it : 
Whence thou comest ? what thy family ? " 

And the young slave said : " My name is 

Mohamed, I come from Yemen, 

I am of the house of Asra, 

And we, when we love, we perish." 



48 



XXXVIII 

Translated from Lorenzo de' Medici. 

*' Quanto sia vana ogni speranza nostra." 

How empty here is every hope we know, 
How fallible each plan is and how vain, 
How full of ignorance we still remain, 

Death, the controller of all things, doth show. 

Some in song, dance, and game let their lives go ; 
Others fair thoughts and gentle entertain ; 
Others the world and the world's ways disdain ; 

Some never tell of inner joy and woe. 

This errant world holds such variety : 

Vain cares and thoughts, many and diverse fates 
Each age beholds great Nature bring to birth. 
Yea, everything is fleet and hardly waits. 
For fortune is most fickle on this earth, 
And death alone stands everlastingly. 



49 



XXXIX 

Translated from Lorenzo de' Medici. 
*' Ove Madonna volge gli occhi belli." 

Wheresoe'er my lady turns her lovely eyes, 
Sans other sunbeam, my fair Flora, there, 
Maketh the earth with myriad flowers rare 

Of beauteous bloom, become a paradise ; 

From every branch love's harmonies arise 

Where birds grown amorous, her radiance share ; 
At her sweet voice the forests grow more fair, 

Decking their branches out in leafy wise. 

Yea, love descries some gentle new device. 
If smile or sigh adorn her lovely face. 

Wherewith to woo chaste nymphs in timid band. 
There is no speech nor thought that will suffice 
To tell the abundance of that goodly grace 
Sprung up at the least touch of her white hand. 



SO 



XL 

Translated from Matteo Maria Boiardo. 
" Con qual pioggia noiosa e con qual vento," 

With wearying rain and with what heavy wind 
Fortune besets my steps upon my way, 
Yea, bitter snow-storms circle me alway, 

And from desir'd repose my footsteps bind ; 

But in the warring heavens no fear I find 
That stormy times lead not to brighter day, 
For in my heart a wakeful, fiery ray 

Admits no cold, that else would prove unkind. 

Onward I go, in company of love, 

Who lighteth up my path obscur'd by gloom 
And makes me think my journey almost done. 
Oh, now the whirling snow fall'n from above 
Seems a white rose and other whitest bloom, 
For, in my mind, I near my living sun. 



51 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 



JUN 31 ''^'Q 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



m 21 I8MI 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

015 939 064 



